


guns, knives and a whole lot of bad decisions

by darkmochecoffee



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Angry Sex, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, JONGDAE IS LITERALLY THE SASSIEST HANDLER, M/M, What Have I Done, this is literally mr and mrs. smith but krisho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmochecoffee/pseuds/darkmochecoffee
Summary: Junmyeon and Yifan hold each other at gunpoint - on the night of their sixth wedding anniversary.





	1. Chapter 1

Yifan looks at his husband of five years (Junmyeon says it’s six) and tries to unravel the blank canvas of his face. There is nothing, and the irritation Yifan feels a lot these days, simmer at the back of his mind moving through his skin. It boils.

“What do you truly feel about this relationship?”

Junmyeon insisted on therapy and counselling so here they are, sitting beside each other yet wanting to be anywhere else but _there._ The counsellor – Yifan wants to call her, doctor –looks at him and then to Junmyeon and back again, awaiting both of their answer.

Yifan mulls over the question, realizing that he has a lot of answers to it. In fact it’s hard to be patient anymore, considering half a decade worth of anger and ire so artfully concealed and buried to the very back end of  Yifan’s mind he sometimes forget they exist. The marriage counselor stares at them, there’s a helpful look on the woman’s soft face. Like she really wanted to help them climb over this Mount Everest of issues in their marriage.

Yifan does not want to answer.

“I’m tired.” Says Junmyeon, pushing his thick framed glasses up his nose bridge. His tone is incredibly flat and Yifan begins to wonder if he’s imagined that sweet lilt of Junmyeon’s voice that had him on his knees years ago.

“What are you tired of Junmyeon?”

Yifan stares at his husband, Junmyeon gazes back and there’s this passing look in his vapid visage and before Yifan could even begin to wonder what it is, it’s gone.

“Everything. I’m tired of everything.”

The counselor nods her head amicably and pushes her glasses back up her nose bridge. “Can you tell me where and how you met?”

“Budapest.” Junmyeon answers, “In 2009.”

//

_Budapest, 2009._

The heat of the Hungarian sun bore on Yifan’s back like small pin pricks of heated needles. He runs a hand through his soaked hair and curses vehemently. It’s already the third continent in less than three weeks. He’s followed their current mark from Asia to South America and finally, Europe. Yifan is so damn exhausted not to mention, appropriately _pissed off._

He’s had enough of the assignment and he had sworn to himself that he’ll finish this tomorrow night, in this damn country or so help him, _there will be blood._

_“The architecture in this place is fucking beautiful.”_

It is Jongdae’s voice through the comm unit stuffed into Yifan’s left ear. The latter is slightly surprised as the voice registers but Yifan ignores it and rounds the corner immediately, purposefully missing the great view of the Danube to Jongdae’s utter chagrin.

The sunglasses Yifan has on submits images of all possible entrance and exits points for egress to Jongdae through their agency’s secured satellite. The images are then converted into a dimensional blueprint that Jongdae could usually memorize and rotate in his head.

 Yifan’s never been the man of technology so he lets Jongdae handle the finer parts of their assignments, he’s there for blood and murder. But the scoping and recon part is protocol, just in case the assignment goes to shit and Yifan has to run. For the record, he’s never had a bad assignment before, except that one in Buenos Aires about two months ago which involved Suho, an unmarked, unidentified hit man from a rival agency and the very bane of Yifan’s existence. That’s all they have on him a code name, _Suho_ and nothing else.

 _“You’re an asshole.”_ Jongdae sounds tired more than pissed off.

“We’re not here to sightsee, Jongdae.” Yifan patiently reiterates as he enters the opulent lobby of the hotel. He is posing as a tourist and the cover is seamless.

_“Wow, you still have that huge stick shoved up your ass huh?”_

Yifan switches off the communication unit with a sigh. He enters the staircase and climbs twenty flights of stairs to his room. The space is a completely inconspicuous hotel room sans the copious amount of firepower laid on his bed like some sick parody of roses and candle lights on a lover’s honeymoon.

 Yifan’s sniper rifle, his prized AX338 is already propped on a slightly veiled window. The gun points right through an open veranda on a building across where he’s set to shoot two perfectly aimed bullets at Adelino Vega, some big shot Puerto Rican drug lord who got into a huge problem with the Chinese Triads. They want him, and Yifan honestly thought the Triads could do the catching themselves but the mark has been jumping from continent to continent without ever planning to stop. Of course when things get a bit tricky, the easiest course of action would be to hire a marksman to do the job cleanly.

The thing is, the customers want the target alive and if it weren’t for the seven Million dollar price on Vega’s head, Yifan would’ve shot the assignment down, figuratively.

Jongdae suddenly emerges from the connected suite all groomed in a finely pressed dress shirt, shoes shined. He scowls at Yifan, still obviously miffed about missing the Danube on a gritty recon camera.

 “Where are you going?”

His partner gives him an eyeroll. “We’re in beautiful Budapest, with equally beautiful women. I’m here _to sightsee_ since you won’t clearly do that for me and probably get laid. See you!”

Yifan watches him sashay out of the door.

//

_“Remember, immobilize the target. Immobilize Wu Yifan. Do not kill him, you got that?”_

“Jongdae shut the fuck up.”

_“I’m just reminding you. You’re awfully trigger happy.”_

“Well you haven’t exactly seen just how trigger happy I am. Let me concentrate.”

The curve of the metallic trigger is smooth against Yifan’s skin and he’s itching to pull, Jongdae was right he is awfully trigger happy. Yifan could see the target’s svelte body move the glass partition to the veranda. Yifan scoffs, the drug lord’s confidence in his security is honestly laughable. He mentally counts in his head, watching the man’s movements and waiting for him to just _fucking step back_.

“Target in sight, immobilizing in three – fuck!”

Before his red tinged scope, a bullet whizzes through the perimeter –maybe a hundred yards from Yifan’s six o’clock –deciding from the clean head shot the drug lord had received before falling over the veranda, the target is obviously dead. Yifan watches in horror as the body free falls from around twenty-five floors and falls into the busy street of Budapest’s night life. What the hell just happened? What the hell?

_“Yifan?”_

“The target is dead.”

 _“What the fuck Wu?! What part of “immobilize target” did you not understand?_ _Fuck, your ass is served Wu Yifan.”_

Yifan springs up and removes the propped up sniper rifle from its previous position. “Someone got to him first. There’s another player on the ground, fuckity fuck.”

_“Fuckin’ hell, if it’s Suho again I’m going bald! This guy needs to be ID’d. He can’t keep botching us up.”_

Yifan draws a palm to his face and sighs. He could already hear the chaotic screams of people who by now, must have discovered the body. Authorities would seriously be up their ass soon enough and this fiasco is beginning to look like Buenos Aires 2.0 all over again.

And that clean headshot, that’s definitely the work of a professional,

 “Look Jongdae, we can’t egress here. I need you to leave immediately, I’ll report back to HQ in three days. You rehash this shitshow and I’ll back you up once the trail is clear.”

_“Got it. Stay alive you shit, you’re doing the explaining.”_

__

Suho –Kim Junmyeon –groans as the body falls off the veranda. He immediately stands up, sniper rifle in tow and runs as his handler scream profanities into his ear.

_“Junmyeon how many times do I have to tell you, watch your fucking timing!”_

Junmyeon’s brows furrow as he jumps off the building’s ledge, legs folded into a calculated angle that lets him land without much damage onto the next available surface, which happened to be a brick roof of a busy looking restaurant. Junmyeon runs to the edge of the roof as fast as he could, his head already in the process of conjuring ugly consequences for his botched timing. To be honest, he really should have waited for Adelino Vega to step back a little, just three paces backwards would have prevented his body from plummeting into an undignified end.

“I’m sorry Baekhyun.”

_“Fix your damn timing!”_

Junmyeon chortles before jumping off the roof and into the restaurant’s back alley with an inconspicuous thud. “But the assignment’s done right. As far as I’m concerned the memo didn’t mention that the body need not be discovered. Vega’s a prominent drug lord anyway and a crap load of people are after him.”

_“Protocol Junmyeon, we do it clean. And a target’s body falling off twenty-five floors in a bloody death is not in anyway, clean.”_

“Alright, alright fine. I fucked up Baek. I’ll be doing the ugly explanations to the boss but for now, I have to go. I’ll see you in Seoul.”

_“Alright, be safe.”_

Junmyeon does not answer even before he pulls the communication unit from his ear and crushes it into innumerable pieces. He pops off his right contact lens and it suffers the same fate as his earpiece. As Junmyeon emerges from the dingy back alley, he slides a pair of fake eyeglasses up his nose bridge, pastes a confused tourist smile on his face and walks out ever so calmly unto the streets of Budapest. The chaos from a few meters behind him, brings a subtle satisfied smile onto his lips.

He enters a local pub away from his probably sacked hotel room. He’d ushered Baekhyun to erase all traces of him once the assignment is finished, it’s safer that way in case thing goes awry. He’d been eyeing this pub two days before he’d planted a bullet into Adelino’s skull. In the thriving city that is Budapest, the pub seemed very detached from all the bustle going on around it. Junmyeon deemed it as a worthy place to hole in, temporarily that is.

There’s only one person sitting in front of the bar counter, a stranger clad in a deep maroon shirt with cropped obsidian hair. Junmyeon approaches, complete with his staged confused tourist persona and a friendly smile. When he occupies the seat, the stranger gazes at him, there’s a passing look of alarm on his face. It’s barely there but Junmyeon sees it nonetheless and he ignores it. He smiles at the stranger instead, and steadily assesses that the stranger is about six feet, definitely Asian, deadly handsome with a piercing gaze and perfect bone structure.  

Could be another tourist.

“Hey.” Junmyeon says.

“Hey back.” And as the stranger smiles back and greets with an equally hypnotizing deep voice, there’s a swoop in Junmyeon’s chest and a telltale rushing of his blood.

 

Junmyeon’s not sure how or why it happened but a few hours later that same night, he finds himself pressed into the sheets, lips on his neck and big hands wandering against his heated skin. Junmyeon does not regret it, does not regret it one bit.

He stares into Yifan’s blown pupils, it’s probably the alcohol they consumed but wow, _the man is absolutely beautiful._ More than lust, there’s something horribly familiar to attraction zinging through Junmyeon’s blood. It makes him pull Yifan back into him, kiss him back like he’s never kissed anyone before.

_Harder, faster –please._

//

  _Guangzhou, six months later._

“I’m in love with him.”

The industrial grade fan blowing hot air inside the arena is abhorrently loud. Sweat trickles down Yifan’s spine as he squints at the target, a throw knife gripped in his left hand. He tries to gauge the angle of the big red X on a target mannequin and zeroes out on it when he’s confident of his aim, he stretches an arm into a semicircle and lets the Eickhorn punch the target about fifteen meters from where he stood. He’s been working on his throw knives for weeks now and he realizes why Luhan loved knives and blades more than guns and bullets. The crunch of the sharp edge as it connects into a mannequin’s mangled chest is oddly satisfying.

Beside him, Jongdae is doing a few odd squats that Yifan could swear Jongdae does to get his ass shaped as he liked.

“You’re crazy.” Jongdae says, butt protruding. “You’re absolutely batshit insane. You don’t even know him!”

Yifan throws three knives this time, and it lands on the target mannequin’s chest area a few centimeters away from each other. Jongdae relaxes from his position and just stares At Yifan with a shrewd look on his disbelieving face.

 “Of course I know him. He’s Kim Junmyeon, says he’s a publishing editor. God, Dae you should meet him, he’s so…adorable.” Yifan throws another knife, he’s aware that his face must have this dreamy look on it but Yifan can’t help it. He loved the feeling, despite the fact that it probably sickens his best friend.

However, Yifan really was not expecting the bodily harm upon him as Jongdae’s clenched fist connects with Yifan’s jugular in a powered uppercut. The taller stumbles and he glares at his best friend with as much appalled audacity he could muster. “What the fuck Kim Jongdae?”

Jongdae winces and gingerly blows into his bruised fist. “Are you hearing yourself? You’re on top of CIA’s most wanted unidentified marksmen, you’re Asia’s best assassin and here you are telling me that this civilian is _adorable._ Are you hearing yourself?” The man sounded positively incredulous as he returns to his squats, duly ignoring Yifan’s sneering look.

“You’re jealous.” Yifan says and Jongdae pierces him with a seething glare and an unexpected roundhouse to his ribs. Yifan literally kisses the ground. Groaning, “Jealous!”

Jongdae gives him another kick to the back.

“Does this mean you’re not going to be my best man?!”

“Fuck you! Fuck you! And Fuck you!”

//

_Seoul, six months later_

_“Are you sure about this?”_

Junmyeon throws a measured punch to his target’s jaw and when that does not knock him out, Junmyeon plants both of his palms into the man’s shoulder as his knee connects with the target’s groin. The man crumples to the ground finally unconscious after minutes of evasive techniques and weak punches, poor guy. Junmyeon decides to spare him from more pain. He grabs his usual 9mm Beretta and buries a bullet into the man’s skull. Junmyeon sighs, “Of course I’m sure. I don’t ever doubt my decisions Baekhyun and it’s not helping that I’m actually in love with him.”

_“Who’s this guy again? So I know who you’re about to marry.”_

Junmyeon manually removes the shard of glass embedded into his left bicep, hissing in pain. “Wu Yifan, he’s an engineer at a Chinese firm called Prime. I checked, everything’s legit.” He tears the tattered portion of his black shirt with his teeth and uses the cloth to stop the gaping gash on his shoulder from bleeding him to death.

_“You’re marrying a civilian, don’t you think this is treading dangerous waters?”_

Junmyeon smiles. _Marrying._ He can’t believe it but there he is, quite the blushing husband-to-be and very excited to start a life with beautiful, kind and perfect Wu Yifan. He’s in cloud nine. Even the mess around him is not enough to dwindle his good spirits.

“Well I don’t ever plan on revealing him anyway. I’ll be the agency’s Suho while I live the rest of my possibly normal life as Wu Junmyeon. Fuck, I love the sound of that, Wu Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon could hear Baekhyun’s laughter in the background as a roar of an engine resounds in the empty warehouse. The cleanup is here and Junmyeon makes a mental note about the janitorial team’s unnecessary noise.  

_“I’m honestly so against this but hey, you sound happy and happiness seemed to reflect on your ever clean record.”_

Junmyeon grins as he starts to grope the target’s dead body for that thin drive embedded right into his skin. Junmyeon makes a thin incision on the man’s nape and true to the report there is indeed a small chip attached on the dermis. The assassin plucks it out, stares at the small device and thinks about all the unnecessary trouble he had to go through for such a little thing. It is disappointing.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing though, I’m so fucking besotted with him and he’s insanely good in the bedroom –“

_“Please spare me the details, Junmyeon.”_

Junmyeon chuckles.

__

 

 

 

Seoul, 2011

Life is absolutely blissful.

Yifan realized that he’d like to feel this bliss for as long as he breathed. There’s just something absolutely satisfying about his newly gained domestic life. His husband is beautiful, warm and he reminds Yifan of sunshine, of happiness, or whatever he calls this fluttering in his chest whenever Junmyeon is near.  

Yifan won’t admit but there are a lot of voids in his seemingly adventurous life, sure his job is not the most glamorous but it took him places, made him meet people from all walks of life even if most of these people gets a bullet on their head courtesy of him. There’s just something about Junmyeon that he badly craved. Domesticity. A normalcy that he’s never had for most of his life.

Yifan is happy, so very happy. Even if his marriage is veiled by lies and pretenses that Junmyeon do not need to know, for his safety. But still, Yifan is so happy. So, so happy.

Junmyeon shifts on the bed, and his porcelain skin blends beautifully against the pristine white sheets. Yifan wonders about the gashes, the deep scarred incisions onto Junmyeon’s shoulders, his leg, and his left rib. Junmyeon tells him it’s because _I’m clumsy_ but Yifan sometimes wonder if there’s more to it.

Yifan receives the sleepy good morning kiss his husband plants against the side of his mouth and every little doubt gets pushed into the void at the back of Yifan’s mind. He gathers Junmyeon into his hold and they mold perfectly, he litters kisses all over Junmyeon’s slender neck, wandering touches pressed onto Junmyeon’s back. His husband is so pliant and helpless and Yifan is so fucking in love.

He hopes its forever.

“I love you.”

Yifan captures his lips in a deep, kind of soul searing kiss and Junmyeon’s reaction sends all kinds of pleasant tingles down Yifan’s spine.

“Me too Jun, I love you, so much.”

__

Seoul, 2016.

Yifan eyes the horrendous rug on the sitting room floor. There’s hatred and irritation simmering like liquid fire in his veins and he can’t believe that he’s absolutely riled up about seeing a _fucking_ rug on his and Junmyeon’s polished oak floor.

His husband’s soft footsteps enter the living room and Yifan quickly composes the look of disgust on his face. Junmyeon stares at the rug and there’s an unemotional smile on his face as he asks Yifan, “Do you like it.”

 _No, it’s fucking hideous._ Yifan wants to say but he clamps down on his words and forces a strained smile for his husband of five years. He shrugs and says, “It looks okay.”

Yifan gets the look again. He’s not sure what to call this utterly detached look his husband provides for him most days and Yifan is quite out of fucks to give. And considering, they’re both quite out of fucks to give, they have been for a year or two now. He doesn’t want to admit but his marriage had really gone stale.

 It’s not that he’s falling out of love and his adoration for Junmyeon is running low as the years go by. Yifan still loves his husband but there’s just nothing between them that provides that spark, that electricity so present during the earlier years of their relationship. Yifan misses the kind of connection between him and his husband that mostly caused them to have frantic sex on every available surface with just one look, he misses that fiery passion. It’s all snuffed out and all that’s left is this mundane, _domesticity_ that he though he once craved. What used to be a breath of fresh air has become a source of suffocation.

Maybe it’s the lies. Like when Yifan goes home with the stench of blood still present upon his being and he can’t tell Junmyeon about what he’d just done. Yifan is tired of it, and it’s made him cave in on himself and there isn’t anything that could pull him back out. And that’s it, Junmyeon would always remain in the dark about this aspect of Yifan’s life and it is killing Yifan, it’s deteriorating his marriage.

Junmyeon slides his glasses up his nose bridge. It’s still the same pair he wore on the day they met, black with chunky frames, and it covers half of his face. The glasses used to look cute but now it’s bland and Yifan honestly hates it too.

“I’ll probably be back later.” Because he’s expecting his assignment to turn up at eleven, but Junmyeon doesn’t need to know that. Yifan shrugs on his coat, “I need to finish something at the office, don’t wait up for me.” Yifan leans in and leaves a short peck on Junmyeon’s cheek before he’s out the door.

//

Jongdae does a good job at close combat. Yifan watches as his previous handler (now his field partner) grabs men two times his size, leaving blows that Yifan swore crushed ribs and broke necks. Jongdae is also agile on his feet, duck and punch, duck and kick, duck and grab then twist.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve warned you about this years ago.” Jongdae says while Yifan grabs his RP9 and fires two consecutive bullets to Jongdae’s six o’clock, two people fall down as the bullets ricochet. One of the shell grazes the top of Jongdae’s ear. His partner gives him a silent _what the fuck_ and clutches at his bloodied appendage, the blood startling scarlet as it covers his hand. Yifan simply shrugs.

“I guess, love clouds all.” Yifan answers to which Jongdae just scoffs. “Oh yeah, you’re just stupid and I can’t believe I agreed to be your best man. Now look at you, your aim is terrible and you can’t even say that you hate your husband’s peculiar taste for decorations.” Jongdae seethes in pain, “And fuck, why’d you shoot me?”  

 Amongst the bloody mess of mangled people, a hand shoots up followed by a pained groan. Yifan does not even think as he empties the last of his clip on the man. Yifan looks around, the stench of blood is cloying. Yifan finds the assignment too messy and involved a lot of unnecessary murder. It’s not doing Yifan’s current state of mind any good. Jongdae tells him he’s unstable, too volatile with the current mess that is his failing marriage.

 “If it’s not worth saving any more, just let go Yifan.”

It’s quite anti-climactic that they’re talking about Yifan’s marriage in this bloody mess. Yifan wonders how Junmyeon would react once Yifan’s job comes to light. Maybe he’ll finally have an expression and not that detached look on his face.

Imagine the horror.

“I don’t know, Jongdae.”

“If you’re asked to plant a bullet onto his skull would you do it?”

Yifan glares at the other man. “I’d rather kill myself. We may really hate each other right now but I’ll never harm Junmyeon, never.”

“Then there goes your answer.” Jongdae’s sigh is resigned. “You’re too attached and I’m really not sure what advice to give.”

Yifan is silent and he remains silent as Jongdae sets the old building on fire. They walk out of the place and the fact that Yifan and Jongdae killed all the core members of the biggest drug dealing group in East Asia does not bother Yifan, instead his head is occupied by the thoughts of his marriage and the way it’s slowly becoming nothing.

The thought bothers Yifan, it bothers him a lot.

//

“Careful now, that’s your last pair.” Baekhyun says as he sees Junmyeon toss his fake glasses upon his wiped desk. Junmyeon eyes the damned thing and he wonders why he even continues to wear the specs when his vision is the best among the hired gun in his agency. He’s a fucking sniper for fuck’s sake.

“Sometimes I question myself why the actual fuck I keep up with the pretenses. I could plant a bullet on a moving target’s head but I actually had to fool my husband into thinking that my eyes are shit.”

Baekhyun’s short _tsk_ is the only answer to Junmyeon’s equally short rant. The sniper sighs and doesn’t talk about how stressed he currently is with his marriage, his dying marriage to be precise. He powers his tablet and it immediately provides him of his assignment. There’s a whole lot of rambling on the mission page that Junmyeon never bothers to read. It’s all the same thing anyway.

_Huang Lei._

_Chinese_

_52, 6.0’_

_Arms dealer_

_Terminate and leave._

Junmyeon stands up still mulling about Yifan’s non-reaction to the horrible rug he’d bought. He thought it would have coaxed a necessary reaction from his husband. Junmyeon would have been happy even if they ended up fighting because of a damn rug than nothing at all.

He hates apathy a lot.

“You’re awfully stressed these days.” Baekhyun tells him when they’re in front of the metal doors to the ‘stockroom’. Junmyeon does not know what to say to him and he’s not really in the mood to address the obvious either. They press a palm each to the biometric scanner and the metallic doors slide open.

_Byun Baekhyun authorized_

_Kim Junmyeon authorized_

“Maybe you need a change of environment or a child. You’ve been with him for what, six years? Maybe you should adopt. Talk to him.”

“Maybe I should get a divorce for that matter.” Junmyeon answers as he grabs a couple of his standard 9mm Beretta and two magazines. He straps them into the holster wrapped around his waist. The temporary arsenal is completed with an odd switchblade he never actually uses but couldn’t part with.  “I’m fucked up as it is, I don’t plan on stringing a completely innocent child to this mess.”

Meanwhile, Baekhyun grabs a few automatic detonative explosives from the numerous shelves, an MP5 with an extra clip and a couple of small throw blades. “You’ve been saying that about him for an awful long time now. We all know you can’t part with him Junmyeon, you’re too attached.”

They make their way out of the artillery and Junmyeon does not say anything to that. It’s the truth though, he is _too attached._ And it’s gotten to that point where he and his husband are kind of sick of each other’s presence but at the same time they’ve also become too dependent on each other to actually instigate a change.

It is a mess.

“By the way, the bosses aren’t providing a janitorial team for us this time.” Baekhyun says as he swishes the throw blades dangerously around the compact space. Junmyeon glares at him.

“So you mean, terminate, _clean_ and leave. That’s new.”

Baekhyun shrugs before finally inserting the blades in the sheath around his left thigh. “It’s only one person anyway. You could probably handle it yourself, I don’t even know why they have to string me along.”

“Maybe the bosses think that I’m getting too messy lately. All these things with Yifan just aren’t good for me and work for that matter.”

“You could say that.”

//

Gunshots ricochet in the distance and it echoes in the frigid nighttime air. The stench of blood and sweat is potent as Junmyeon runs in crisscross along the dirt path dotted with trees. They are in a somewhat private cemetery in the dead of the night without a clear number of pursuers hot after their tail.

Running beside him, Baekhyun screeches, “The file said it was one fucking person!” as he allows more bullets to spray from his MP5. Junmyeon doesn’t answer, merely looks back on his shoulder and shoots down another two. They’ve killed about eleven now, and still no sight of Huang Lei.

Junmyeon ducks down under a covered awning of a mausoleum, Baekhyun diving after him. They both pant as they slide a new clip into their respective guns. “What the actual fuck? Did somebody rat us out?” 

“Most likely, if this goes to hell then Lei must have known someone is after him.”

Junmyeon could feel the shallow gunshot wound on his shoulder. The small gash is trickling blood and it is hassling. Junmyeon curses. “What do I fucking tell Yifan about the damn bullet that grazed me?”

Baekhyun actually laughs at the statement and Junmyeon reins in the urge to stab him with the switchblade in his grasp. “Tell him you got stabbed by a scissor at work. He knows you’re accident prone and all that shit anyway, he’ll believe it.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes and stands up just in time as a hostile appears before their hiding place. The man aims his hefty AK47 at Junmyeon but before he could even fully react, Junmyeon has already stabbed his switchblade into the man’s carotid artery. The man’s blood sprays onto Junmyeon’s face just as he falls down, pitifully gasping and gaping at nothing.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you use a knife and damn you’re messy.” Baekhyun idly comments, plucking the AK47 from the corpse’s hold while Junmyeon retrieves his Eickhorn switchblade. Junmyeon wipes the blood on the dead man’s shirt and straps the knife back into its place. “I told you, marriage problems with my line of work isn’t a very good combination.”

There’s a rattle from the comm unit attached to the dead hostile’s body before a staticky voice announces, _“Boss is at the compound, everyone report back.”_

Junmyeon looks at his partner and chuckles. “Well I guess this assignment won’t be completely shit in the end.”

//

The compound is within the private cemetery itself, disguised in the façade of a gigantic mausoleum. Junmyeon is kind of impressed, among the dead bodies lying peacefully under the ground, in the middle of it all is a thriving business. Huang Lei, has been a target for a while now. He’s a game changer in the arms business, competition is intense so it’s not a surprise that people pay for his head even then, he’s miraculously survived one hit man to the next.

Junmyeon attaches a silencer to his Beretta and shoots down two guards manning the entrance. Baekhyun closely follows after him, with the occasional sound of his favored throw blades piercing against skin. The mausoleum is nothing but a big warehouse inside, it’s completely dark sans the dim bulb casting a sickening orange glow on the dusty floor.

Guns blow off immediately as a guard spots them. Junmyeon ducks behind a pile of wooden crates, shoving himself unto Baekhyun in the process, “And I actually bothered to put on the silencer. You’re really amazing about subtlety aren’t you?”

Baekhyun chuckles as they both scramble to their feet. Junmyeon has both of his Beretta up, shooting people with a truly scary accuracy. In his peripheral vision, he sees Huang Lei protected by his guards, who are equally unmerciful as they unleash magazine upon magazine, spraying a hail of bullets upon them.

“Junmyeon!” There’s a wheeze at the end of Baekhyun’s shout and Junmyeon is acutely aware that Baekhyun had been shot. Damn. His magazine empties and as he ducks down to grab a spare, a stray bullet successfully grazes his left cheek.

 _Goddamnit!_  

Junmyeon doesn’t even have time to process another of his shallow wound as he calls over the cacophony, “Baekhyun are you okay?!”

 _“_ Yes, you get the mark, I’ll watch your six!”

Junmyeon jumps up, sprints across the mausoleum as another array of bullets follow his track. The unmistakable sound of an AK47 firing from behind him.

Baekhyun is truly his favorite field partner.

Junmyeon manages to shoot the remaining guard standing by Huang Lei with his last bullet. He grabs the Eickhorn strapped on his thigh and throws it across the warehouse-like mausoleum. The knife precisely lands on their mark’s chest. There’s a faint gurgling sound as the arms dealer mechanically removes the switchblade embedded upon his chest, he gives one last horrified look to Junmyeon and falls down.

A few more rounds of the AK47 and alarmed shouts in a language Junmyeon does not understand then complete stillness follows. There’s chaos all around them, dead bodies and an equally dead target. The wound on Junmyeon’s shoulder throbs. “Baek you good?”

Baekhyun drops on the ground panting as he wraps a mangled cloth around his bleeding thigh. “It’s actually a good thing that the boss sent the both of us, because honestly this is a fucking catastrophe. I wish I were back as your handler, I can’t deal with this mess.”  

Junmyeon picks up his trusty Eickhorn and doesn’t think when he wipes blood off it again. “What do we do about cleanup though? Should we set the whole damn thing on fire?”

“We should, maybe bomb the place or something. We’re too far off civilization anyway.”

“Alright.”

//

Yifan surveys the wound on his husband’s shoulder, there’s a horrible looking gash that seemed to have dug into the epidermis of Junmyeon’s pristine skin. He gently dabs disinfectant and then medicine on the wound. Junmyeon is suspiciously calm about it, and Yifan may or may not have pressed on too hardly to coax a reaction. Junmyeon had given him nothing. 

 Junmyeon told him he accidentally got stabbed with a sharp staple remover at the office. He says his friends were roughhousing and things got a bit awry. Yifan doesn’t believe him of course, he’s seen this type of wound so many times, on himself and on other people – it was gunshot wound, albeit shallow.

He stares at Junmyeon’s reflection from the mirror. They’re leaning in front of the vanity, Yifan standing behind Junmyeon. “This needs stitching.” He remarks quietly, “Maybe you should go to the ER.”

His husband removes his glasses and it clatters noisily against the vanity table. “I’m okay.”

“I can do it.” Yifan offers, “Its necessary protocol in the firm, for when people manage to get themselves _horribly injured_.” Or if I get shot and start bleeding to death.

“You mean you can stitch a wound? Okay.” Junmyeon’s calmness is unnerving more than reassuring. Either way, Yifan’s capacity to care is slowly dwindling. Even if he had so many questions, it’s really not worth it. Yifan momentarily leaves Junmyeon to get the kit in their bedroom’s bath. When he comes back, he finds his husband lying on his stomach on their wide bed. Yifan approaches and just sits beside him, stares at his scarred spine. There’s an unstoppable urge to touch Junmyeon, even just run his palms down the other man’s back. Yifan screws his eyes shut and doesn’t act on the urges, instead he opens the first aid kit and procures surgical grade suturing needles and starts working on his husband’s wound.

They’re hopelessly quiet. Junmyeon does hiss in pain but he doesn’t flinch nor move away. The incredibly high pain tolerance baffles Yifan. He’s always known that his husband is accident prone, and is constantly subjected to small injuries here and there.

But this wound, this wound is definitely not from a staple remover and yet he chose to lie anyway.

 What’s the point? Their marriage was really built upon a foundation of sand, otherwise known as two people who felt the faintest spark of attraction and let compulsion drive their next move – a stupid move, if you are to ask Yifan about it now –and got married. It’s natural that they crumble. Yifan does feel an ounce of regret but more than anything, he wants out of it.

When the wound is closed up, Yifan leans over Junmyeon’s shoulder and whispers. “Take care of yourself.”

Junmyeon rises from the bed and stares at Yifan. For the first time in a few weeks, there’s emotion in his eyes. Yifan gets a good look at his husband without his horrendous spectacles and there’s a small voice at the back of his head that says Junmyeon is breathtakingly beautiful. Junmyeon gives him a small smile, leans closer and then he’s cupping Yifan’s cheek, pushing forward to leave a short, lingering kiss on Yifan’s lips.

“Goodnight Yifan.”

And Yifan wanted to kiss him again, or maybe fuck him open against the bed but Junmyeon merely puts on a shirt, occupies his side of the bed and promptly falls asleep. Yifan almost chuckles because of course, of course. He couldn’t remember the last time they had sex and it’s not surely happening anytime soon.

It’s been such a long time since Junmyeon showed signs of wanting him.

_Of course, of course._

//

The image on the hologram is of a man in his early thirties with jet black hair and piercing green eyes. Under the holographic image, is the name Xavier Abellan. The target is duly impressive in his clean criminal record. Xavier Abellan is the owner of some Spanish-American pharmaceutical company currently paving its way into the Asian market. All is nice and dandy until he becomes the subject of intense rumors concerning a kind of wonder drug for cancer.

Adding fuel to the fire, he also boasts of an impressive research team which had been releasing an improper amount of information that had been causing quite a positive public uproar. Half a year into the Asian scene and he probably has angry enemies lining up to get a piece of him. They want him annihilated that is for sure but to be perfectly honest Junmyeon kind of loathed that he had to kill the man.

_“We need him dead.”_

That’s Kim Heechul, otherwise known as the infamous boss. Junmyeon nods his head, he can’t really say no especially if he’s been personally asked to handle the job himself. It’s a solo assignment this time and Baekhyun won’t be there to watch his back. Junmyeon shivers at the idea.

It’s his first foray into actual assassination of a person without an ugly criminal record and so there comes a ton of doubts. But really, when it came to it, he’s still going to kill the man without second thoughts. It’s the fact that he doesn’t know what to expect that’s making him cringe in dislike.

“In a week, the target will be holding a celebratory banquet in a private estate in Seoul.” Heechul slides another folder into his direction and says, “This will be your cover.”

Junmyeon flips the folder open and he’s pleased to know that his cover won’t involve either posing as a body guard nor a waiter, of which he’d done countless of times before.

This time he’s actually a guest under the guise of Wu Junmian, another Chinese pharmaceutical magnate. Junmyeon may or may not have squinted too hard at such an oddly perfect coincidence. As far as he’s concerned, his agency is aware that he’s married but Junmyeon never actually disclosed who he’d married. It is too dangerous and he doesn’t want to subject his husband into unnecessary risks even if it meant that he had to lie to Yifan.

But still, the name Wu Junmian is actually suspicious. He looks up and gauges Heechul’s expression which is vapid as always.

“Do you have questions?”

Junmyeon shakes his head.

“Dismissed.”

 

 

 “Why do people want him dead?”

Yifan decides that Xavier Abellan is a very good looking man. The pharmaceutical president stands at an average six feet two, clad in perfect olive skin and startling green eyes. It’s a pity Yifan’s being asked to kill him.

Yunho, the boss man of his agency pins him with a look. “The clients’ reasons aren’t exactly our business. They want a target killed, we mark and we finish the job.”

Yifan shrugs. “But still, the man has a clean record. It’s a shame.”

“ _Li Jiaheng.”_

Yifan clams up, all protests dying in his lips before he could string them into sentences. There’s an impatient look on the boss’ faces and he reiterates that he does not want any further screw ups in the assignment. Yifan could only nod his head.

“He’s formally introducing this cancer wonder drug in the market through a publicized event. It’s happening a week from now. You’re not going undercover this time and it’s a solo mission.”

Yifan is vaguely aware of the date but he is pretty sure that twelve days from now is his and Junmyeon’s sixth wedding anniversary.  He hopes he gets out of the assignment alive or Junmyeon is going to abhor him if he misses their anniversary dinner. Plus it was hell trying to get a reservation in that posh, European fusion restaurant he’d wanted to eat at. “Alright.”

Yifan grabs the file before him and saunters out of bossman’s office. 

//

Yifan gets a slight shock when he steps into their kitchen and sees his husband cutting up vegetables on the kitchen’s polished granite countertop. Nothing’s most particularly amiss; when Junmyeon sees him, he kisses Yifan and gives him the rudimentary welcome home look and Yifan reciprocates the greeting with a small kiss on the side of Junmyeon’s mouth. Everything is normal as always except for the shock of red Junmyeon has replaced his usual amber hair with. Junmyeon has his bright scarlet locks brushed up in a careless way and it makes him look stunning. Yifan hopes he could get rid of the ugly spectacles sitting unbothered on top of Junmyeon’s nose bridge and dwarfing half of his face.

“What’s with the hair?” Yifan inwardly cringes at his tone but does not say anything else to amend it. Junmyeon doesn’t look bothered.

“I wanted a change, I guess.”

Yifan hums his assent as he walks to the refrigerator, procuring himself a glass of water, still watching Junmyeon chop the vegetables for their would be tasteless dinner. There’s that unexplainable urge to touch his husband again, run his fingers on those shiny strands of hair. Yifan shuts the refrigerator door closed and walks toward the counter. “I like it.” He says.

 Junmyeon momentarily ceases chopping up the vegetables to look up at him. “Thanks.”

Then they're just gazing at each other and Yifan has a lot of silent questions readied at the tip of his tongue. So many why's concerning about where they stand now, if Junmyeon wants out of their sorry excuse of a marriage. But as most days, words will always fail Yifan and maybe more than his double life and its ugly shrouded secrets, it's the loss of communication that's become the biggest catalyst to the impending demise of their marriage. When Junmyeon averts his gaze, their night slowly furthers into nothing but emotionless smiles and reticent thoughts.  They eat their tasteless dinner silently. They’ve long quit on the useless small talk since it made their dinner more uncomfortable. Silence suits them better, Yifan thought.  
  
That night, Yifan finds himself staring at Junmyeon's back and he doesn't fall asleep until the sheets rustle and Junmyeon's eyes snap open. Yifan hears Junmyeon sigh and then nothing.    


//  
  
"I have to attend a business meeting on Friday. I'll leave the day after tomorrow."   
  
Junmyeon is about to dump sugar into his coffee when Yifan announces it over breakfast. He idly wonders what this business meeting is all about and how it perfectly coincides with the day when Xavier Abellan releases his cancer wonder drug, also the day Junmyeon has to kill him.   
  
"Okay,” Junmyeon dumps the sugar into his full cup and proceeds to stir, “Actually I also have an MT trip with the team on Friday too, and I might not be back until Sunday." Yifan does not deign him with anything but a small nod of his head. They carry on with their breakfast in silence as Junmyeon still idly watches Yifan from across their excessively long table. Speaking of the table, they've argued a lot of times about this pathetic piece of furniture. It's become such a puny object of hatred that whenever Junmyeon sits before it, he is reminded about all the things he particularly likes to hate about his husband. For example, this tasteless, wooden, table that doesn't portray an inch of what Junmyeon enjoyed in furniture.   
  
Or maybe Junmyeon just likes to find fault in his husband's intricacies to coax a reaction from him, these days Junmyeon feels like he's talking to a log and he's better off shouting with Yifan than nothing at all. Junmyeon takes a long sip of his coffee and despite the amount of sugar he's mixed with his black coffee, oddly enough, the concoction tastes even more bitter than usual.   
  
When breakfast is a done deal, they both sit up. Junmyeon clears the table as he watches his husband grab his leather messenger bag and his rolled up prints. Yifan strolls to the door and calls out, "See you later." Before leaving the house. Junmyeon's fist clenches tightly around the kitchen knife in his grasp and seconds later, he turns away from the sink and finds himself hurling the blade across the counter. The sharp edge plunges into the wooden dining table with a satisfying crunch.   
  
Junmyeon kind of wants to scream.   
  
//   
  
The pharmaceutical company is called "Helios" Junmyeon notes as he saunters inside the hotel lobby, it's written in swirling metallic letters just paces from the entrance. Junmyeon is dressed to the nines, armed in nothing but a tuxedo, a standard Beretta M9 artfully tucked under his coat and a small vial of poison, so lethal a drop could kill.     
  
Junmyeon smiles to the concierge as he hands over his personal invite. The staff reciprocates his smile as he hands a small linen pouch to Junmyeon. The concierge nods at him and asks that a server escort him to the ballroom. Junmyeon smiles genially and lets himself be led into the venue. When the staff leaves him, he activates the earpiece Baekhyun handed him before the assignment. Junmyeon greatly appreciated the fact that the device was artfully concealed as a minimalistic earring, tasteful enough for the occasion. His clear contact lenses also provide Baekhyun of the visual around the perimeter.   
  
_"What's in the pouch?"_  
  
Baekhyun's voice is barely above a whisper in Junmyeon's ears but he hears it all the same. Junmyeon will never tell his handler but Baekhyun's voice ringing in his ears has always given him some sort of stability and a kind of sick comfort.   
  
Junmyeon raises his champagne glass and hides the movement of his lips behind the guise of sipping from it. "I haven't checked, maybe it's a kind of token for the guests."   
  
_"Okay. By the way, the target's not in position yet. Roam around for a bit, try to recon as much as possible. If it goes awry, you run."_    
  
Junmyeon brings the glass down, suavely placing it on a tray carried by a server that passed by him. He tries to meet as less possible gazes but when an occasional business lady shimmies up to him for a dance, he is forced to oblige. So he smiles politely, like the complete gentleman Wu Junmian is and humors the ladies vying for his attention, asking for a dance. He also gets a lot of questions regarding Xavier Abellan, and he all but answers a generic, "I plan to invest." As written on his cover's file. He also reverts into Mandarin a couple of times and Baekhyun mocks him through the communication device for that.  
  
"Are you married Junmian?"   
  
Junmyeon dips the fancy looking lady just as the music eases into a melodic conclusion. It's almost an hour and no sight of Abellan, Junmyeon's skin is beginning to boil in irritation.   
  
"Yes." He tells the woman, much to her shocked chagrin. Junmyeon gives her a mocking smile to indent the statement.   
  
"Oh." The woman says, raises a hand to her mouth as she chuckles into her gloved hand. Proper etiquette, Junmyeon guesses. "I just thought, you'd be single. A handsome young man like you. Is your wife around?"   
  
Junmyeon leads her off the center of the ballroom with a respectful hand on the small of her back. "I'm thirty-one, and it's a husband. Unfortunately, he’s not here at the moment."   
  
It's Baekhyun's voice through his comm that successfully derails Junmyeon from thinking about the woman's more than disappointed expression. If only they knew how precarious his marriage is, they would have probably wept.

 _"It's time to stop fooling around princess, our mark just entered the premises."_ __  
  
Junmyeon doesn't answer and when he turns, just as Baekhyun had said, a tall man walked into the ballroom heralded by stunted applause. Up close and personal, the pharmaceutical mogul looks rather exotic more than the grainy hologram image the agency has of him. Xavier Abellan is definitely European —Spanish deciding as the olive of his skin isn't common in native Englishmen. However there's an apparent downward tilt in his bright green eyes that lends him an Asian hint.  
  
_"You're given an hour upon sighting of target. Cleanup will fetch you the moment you've taken the mark down."_

  
"Affirmative."   
  
Junmyeon listens as the target occupies the prepared podium and greets the guests —people who rake in millions from the world market. He finally introduces the drug through a long winded speech that felt like hours to Junmyeon.   
  
The cancer wonder drug comes in liquid form, and is introduced into the blood stream through arterial injection. It stops cells from metastasizing and successfully annihilates the formation of tumors, making it the perfect solution for cancer.   
  
Junmyeon is not so sure what to feel but alas, a job is a job. The pharmaceutical magnate steps down the podium. Junmyeon follows him with an unyielding albeit calm gaze, when the target sees him, he gives Junmyeon a knowing smile. Something about the sure look on his face gave Junmyeon a shrill tingle down his spine. Xavier freely approaches Junmyeon as some of the people in the ballroom flock around him, yet his gaze remains pinned on Junmyeon. The marksman finds himself stepping toward his target, calm as ever despite the raising suspicion.   
  
"Wu Junmian." The magnate offers a hand topped off with slender fingers, "What a surprise."   
  
Junmyeon tries to avoid narrowing his eyes into questioning slits but the mockery in his target's tone is not helping his crippling anxiety. Junmyeon suddenly thinks of forgoing the poison, maybe he'd just snap Abellan's neck that would be pretty basic.   
  
"It's my pleasure to finally meet you.” Junmyeon keeps up with the pretense. Xavier Abellan knows he’s lying. “The introductory speech was amazing, by the way."   
  
The target takes a pro offered wine glass, taking the crystal like edge to his lips for a sip. "It's only good if you're investing. And if that's the case, I'd be glad to personally assist."   
  
Junmyeon doesn't take his eyes off him, silently studying his body language and any sort of indication that provides an opening for failure. But just as suddenly, Baekhyun's voice rattles in his ear. 

  
_"There's another player in the ground. I could pick up an anomalous heat signature from the building next to the hotel. Eliminate the target and get away from there remember –"_  
  
Baekhyun’s voice is cut off after a muffled explosion, the whole floor turns pitch black. Ensuing the predicament, frightened screams follow as billionaires run amok the place, panicking like headless chickens. Junmyeon zeroes out on his target amidst the chaotic orchestra of screeching, Abellan makes a run for it and this is when Junmyeon knows the target had been informed, he knew someone would be after him. _Not again._ The marksman runs after his Abellan who is sprinting across the wide ballroom to the open verandas. Junmyeon slams  his whole body at his target when he gets nearer but just before he could grab him by his neck, an unmistakable pain lances through the left side of his body, tearing through the oblique muscle. The air is immediately knocked out of Junmyeon as he collapses on his knees, one arm supporting his upper body from completely kissing the tiled floor. Completely winded, his hand presses against the warm gush of liquid from a few inches above his hip. The bullet had successfully embedded itself onto his flesh, it makes him heady, gaze losing focus as his blood steadily leaks from the wound.  
  
Junmyeon screws his eyes shot, cursing. He had been so distracted that he’s completely forgotten about the other player. He also hadn't noticed when Xavier Abellan dropped dead just beside him. Junmyeon is quick to react, he takes out his M9 and fires consecutive shots, approximating the other player from the angle of which they had shot Junmyeon's target. No one tampers with Junmyeon's marks, no one. He doesn't even care if he'd been ID'd because swears he will get his hands on this person, and this person will receive much more than the flesh wound he'd inflicted Junmyeon.   
  
"You're dead, you are so fucking dead."   
  
//   
  
Yifan is not sure how long he'd crouched on that rooftop, half of his body hidden behind a concrete railing. Through his rifle's scope, Yifan could easily maneuver a shot straight through the open veranda and right into the space where he's expecting Xavier Abellan to appear any time now.   
  
Jongdae had since stopped his mockery of Yifan's current problems and the fact that he had been greatly bothered about the gunshot wound on his husband more than his husband's mounting dislike and clear disgust of him. Jongdae had sneered and mocked him through the rattling comm unit for a good half an hour until Yifan threatened he was going to stab Jongdae in the appendix.   
  
When Jongdae finally deems himself useful, he informs Yifan of his target being in the premises. Yifan immediately springs into action, belatedly realizing that the pharmaceutical magnate is standing way out of his range. He could opt to kill the man as he stood there but the thing is, two women clad in gaudy looking clothes stand in his way on landing a clean shot. Yifan wouldn't have bothered about collateral damage really, but his instructions had been explicit, only the mark is to be taken down, which sucks big time.   
  
So Yifan waits until Abellan takes languid steps down the podium and walks towards the refreshments table. Yifan's finger is ready to pull the trigger but suddenly, a man with startling red locks approaches Yifan's target. The redhead's back covering a huge portion of Abellan's front.   
  
Yifan bites back a groan. "Fuck, there's another damn civvy on the floor."   
  
_"Just wait, until you get a good enough visual."_  
  
Yifan does not hear the last of Jongdae's sentence because as soon as the civvy turns his face just a few inches away from the target, Yifan sees a very familiar side profile. Yifan goes rigid because, what the fuck was his husband doing in there? Yifan's mind goes blank for a sickening moment. He removes his eyes from the rifle's scope. Ice pours down Yifan’s spine, his vision whitening in shock.  
  
No, it's not him. It can't be Junmyeon.   
  
When Yifan crouches to take a second look, it’s too late, because the lower floor of the hotel in which the ballroom is located suddenly erupts into a muffled explosion. The ballroom goes pitch black.   
__  
"Jesus!" Jongdae exclaims through the comm device. _"What the actual fuck just happened?!"_    
  
"Some sort of explosion on the floor below the ballroom. Don't worry, I have clear visual of the target."   
  
Yifan sees the target zoom across the ballroom, shoving people flocking in his way and running right into the veranda where Yifan exactly wanted him. Through the blurry green tint of his scope, Yifan could see Abellan's tall form. Yifan pulls the trigger but the bullet does not hit the intended target, instead it lands on another person who'd been clearly sprinting after Yifan's target if the way that man lunged on Abellan's form was any indication. In that moment, Yifan realizes he is compromised, there is another mercenary with the same mark and the chances that he is going to be ID'd are high.  Yifan doesn't let this deter him though, when he pulls the trigger a second time, it lands on Xavier Abellan's forehead.  
  
Yifan gently pries his stiff fingers from the sniper rifle and gently eases onto a standing position so when a bullet tears through his thigh, he barely had time to react. He falls and rolls to the concrete edge of the rooftop, seething, as three more shots ricochet in his general vicinity. Yifan understands the reaction, the other player is obviously furious at having someone nick at his target first. Yifan sympathized with the sentiment, after all he'd been in the same predicament a few years back.  
  
The dull throb on his thigh jolts Yifan out of his reverie but nonetheless, the situation brings a grin on Yifan's lips.  
  
"The target is down; expecting cleanup."   
  
_"Okay, I'm on it. "_  
  
"By the way there's another player on the ground. Can you do a little bit of recon for me Jongdae, I'd like to have homework."   
  
_"Alright, cleanup should be there. Get out of the scene immediately. If you're ID'd you know the rules."_  
  
Yifan thanked his lucky stars, one second late and that first bullet would have torn right through his skull. He couldn't help but wonder about the accuracy of the shots, as if the shooter had been deadest on landing a bullet on Yifan's forehead, with a 9mm at that. It reminds Yifan of Buenos Aires in 2008 and Budapest in 2009, both of which dates reverted back to Suho and him on the same assignment. Both of which he fucked up quite badly. And then there's that side profile, Yifan had been so pre occupied of his task that he'd completely forgotten about his husband and that sliver of possibility that it was indeed him. But why?   
  
No, it can't be Junmyeon. His husband may hate him now but Junmyeon had always been soft even slightly docile. Throughout the years Yifan has been married to him, he has never seen Junmyeon raise a hand to hurt. And Junmyeon's vision isn't the best, he can't possibly aim that seamlessly without perfect eyesight.   
  
It can't be Junmyeon. It can't be.  
  
_"Yifan get out of there."_  
  
//   
  
Junmyeon is furious, incredibly so and his ire made his whole body shake.     
  
He enters Heechul's office without qualms and deposits himself on the empty chair behind his boss's unnecessarily huge oak desk. His boss is smoking and the cloud of nicotine blowing between them makes Junmyeon's skin crawl.   
  
"There's another hostile on the ground. He got the target." Junmyeon explains, trying to get rein on his pain. The medics on the compound had managed to close him up but god, his wound throbs and adding salt to the injury, he had also successfully reopened the still healing stitches Yifan had done to close the shallow gash on his shoulder. Great.   
  
Heechul nods sagely, finally stubbing the rest of his cigarette on an overflowing ashtray. "That's okay, the original purpose of Xavier Abellan was to draw out your next target and you've succeeded. He's dead and now we have a visual on Li Jiaheng, he comes next."   
  
Li Jiaheng is a ghost as much as Suho is a ghost. The hit man has never been ID'd ever since starting the business in 2005, the same year Junmyeon's body count steadily touched the roof in a scarily fast rate.  
  
The both of them belong to opposing agencies, both the best in this side of the globe and it was bad for business if two of them land the same target. Still, the only information their agencies have willingly disclosed is their code names, identities without faces. It has been agreed on —some kind of truce —just in case clients file for the same target through different agencies and they overlap on the job. It doesn't generally excuse the fact that since then, Junmyeon's agency have been breathing down his neck, sometimes purposely putting him on highly classified assassination assignments solo, even with the knowledge that Li Jiaheng is on the same target. They always say the pest needed to be drawn out and it was only a matter of who nicks the other first.   
  
Junmyeon has probably come across Li Jiaheng once or twice in the last eleven years, but still that's the only thing he's got, a code name. Li Jiaheng is still a ghost, but apparently, not anymore.  
  
Heechul slides the folder over the desk and when Junmyeon flips the cover open, his breath hitches.  He stares at the blurry photo on the file in complete disbelief because Li Jiaheng is also Wu Yifan. The man he'd met in Budapest. The same man he'd fallen for, so hard that Junmyeon married and stayed with him. The same man who'd told Junmyeon that he was going to attend a business meeting on the day of Junmyeon's supposed assassination of the pharmaceutical mogul. The same man who'd apparently shot him.  
  
Wu Yifan, his husband. 

Junmyeon’s fingers shake as they clutch onto the folder. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it was his husband’s blurry face on the assignment profile. His husband, Wu Yifan. It had to be a sick kind of joke but Junmyeon knew the agency didn’t release target profiles without the proper backing information.  
  
For a second, Junmyeon feels like suffocating in thin air, his fist tightly grasping the folder. For a second, Junmyeon's eyes had whited out in pure unadulterated rage. He'd been betrayed and Yifan actually waited all these years to finally kill him. His husband is nothing but a cover, their marriage is a complete fucking lie.  
  
The hit man composes himself as he stands up.   
  
"You have forty eight hours upon sighting of target. Make it clean."  
  
Junmyeon chuckles without a trace of humor. Even in his ears, he sounded homicidal. "It would be an absolute pleasure."   
  
Yifan is fucking dead. 


	2. Chapter 2

On Saturday afternoon, Yifan practically limps into the threshold of his house. The bullet that tore through his thigh is providing him unbearable pain as he tried to stand steadily on his legs. It’s not a glib task.

 He remembers that Junmyeon is still on that MT trip with his team, so he doesn’t think too much when he saunters (limps) through the living room. He doesn’t notice that the ugly rug he’d hated is gone and that equally hideous purple draperies covering the floor to length windows are also noticeably MIA.

When he does notice, he freezes on the spot and corrects his slouch. Yifan’s gaze lingers through the living room before he rounds the corner to the open floor kitchen. He sees Junmyeon, grinning at him.    
  
"Hi, honey."   
  
Junmyeon is standing before the granite countertop, leaning against the sink. His face is noticeably devoid of his chunky glasses and he is smiling. And it isn’t his usually emotionally detached smiles, in retrospect, Junmyeon’s smile has too much emotion in it, too much  _malicious intent._

  
Wait.   
  
"I thought you're not coming back until Sunday," Yifan says as he tries to not limp as he walks and sits before the dining table.  
  
Junmyeon smirks at him. "Oh, I thought you'd miss me."    
  
Yifan watches as Junmyeon pours him wine, the red liquid dangerously sloshing up to the brim. "Here drink, I’ll go get dinner."   
  
Yifan is getting incredibly agitated but he makes sure to sit still and watch Junmyeon with increasing suspicion. Junmyeon opens the top cabinet above the sink and in his effort to reach what's inside, his shirt hikes up providing Yifan a clear view of the bandage wrapped around his tapered waist.   
  
And crippling suspicion turns to clear spine-chilling fear as he remembers the man he’d seen last night. The man who looked too much like his husband. There isn’t much evidence to support the claim –but what had been Junmyeon up to last night, why had he lied in the first place?

Was Junmyeon the other player?  

Yifan doesn’t mourn the possibility yet but it baffles him and as he’s momentarily pulled into his thoughts a kitchen knife comes sailing through the air, aimed straight towards him. Yifan catches it through his peripheral vision and out of pure muscle reflex, his palm shoots up catching the knife by its blade as his body turns sideways in avoidance. The knife's sharp edge dug onto his palm and cuts right through his skin, but that isn't the problem. The problem is that his husband had just thrown a knife that had been clearly aimed to kill him and he's managed to stop the knife, two inches away from piercing his forehead.   
  
His husband, ever sweet Wu Junmyeon had just tried to kill him.   
  
"Oh, honey," Junmyeon remarks scathingly. "You caught it."   
  
Yifan doesn’t give Junmyeon time to react as he bolts up and makes a run for it.    
  
//   
  
"Junmyeon is Suho."   
  
Jongdae eyes him groggily. "Wait, hold up you bitch. Did you just wake me up from my beauty rest to slander your husband? This is unacceptable." 

Yifan approaches his bedraggled looking friend and clasps his palms around the R&D agent’s shoulder. “Dae I need the surveillance tapes from last night, I need it now.”

The urgency in Yifan’s voice springs Jongdae into action. He sits in front of his computer and immediately connects to their database. Jongdae sifts through his surveillance videos and plays the entirety of what Yifan had wanted.

And as Yifan watches, he mourns. His eyes bore holes onto the PC’s double screen monitor and sift through every movement. And then he catches it, that startling red hair. He refuses to call the man Junmyeon, because Junmyeon had been the man he married and this one, this one is Suho.

Yifan watches confounded, angry and betrayed. He watches as last night’s events unfold behind the screen, presented to him through a gritty projection. He watches as the explosion wracked the ballroom, the lights go out and the cameras switch automatically into its green tinted night focus. And then he sees Suho, running across the ballroom, sprinting after Xavier Abellan.

Yifan turns away from the screen as his reality crashes before his very eyes. Jongdae is silent.

“Christ, I can't believe I fucking married the person who's been botching up my assignments these past few years. What were the odds?!"   
  
"You're kidding me, Wu." 

“Isn’t that enough proof for you!” Yifan shouts exasperated. He stands up and paces, the pain in his thigh completely forgotten. “He’d been there. I saw him last night but I refused to believe it. And I wouldn't be here if he didn't throw a knife aimed at my forehead, earlier. He wanted to kill me Jongdae, because he knows. He knows Li Jiaheng from last night."   
  
"So you're saying Suho ID'd you? You know the rules Yifan, you'll have to kill him."   
  
Crippling doubt clouds over Yifan because he knows when it came to it, he would be incapable of killing Junmyeon. No matter the shit show of a revelation that just happened between them, even with all the secrets and lies that are all out in the open, Yifan still loves and will always love his husband. Maybe he'll pretend, but in the long run, it would be Junmyeon planting a bullet in his skull, not the other way around.  
  
Yifan would admit that the last two years weren't the best. Yifan couldn't remember the last time they had a decent conversation that meant something to them both rather than forced pleasantries that are better said between strangers than two married people. They weren't okay but Yifan still found himself hoping that by some miracle there would be something left worth saving. Because the rest of the years he'd been with Junmyeon had been nothing short of perfect. The first four years were blissful.   
  
Maybe he'd deluded himself and then this.   
  
Yifan isn't expecting this at all.   
  
"You're not kidding." It's Jongdae's gasp of realization, "Junmyeon is really Suho, fucking hell Yifan. How the fuck did this happen?!"   
  
The question should be,  _'why did he let this happen'_    
  
"I don't know Jongdae." Yifan feels lost, really lost. "I have no idea."  
  
There is a dull throb in his chest and he laughs at himself in mockery. Such a weak thing. Junmyeon didn't even bat an eye when he tried to kill him and there he is, a pathetic bleeding heart, mourning over the loss of a marriage that probably wasn't even true for the both of them. Maybe he was nothing but a job for Junmyeon, a long undercover assignment until he found the perfect time to annihilate him. Maybe they are really destined to end like this.   
  
What a fucking tragedy.   
  
"It's not real Yifan.” Jongdae looks at him, stares as if he knew the gravity of this realization. Yifan badly wanted to tell him that Jongdae knew nothing of what it felt like. He stays quiet. “

“It's nothing but an assignment and this time you were a target. But you're not dead yet. The assignment isn't finished."   
  
Yifan doesn't have enough courage to admit that he can't kill his husband. He can't. And he won't.   
  
//   
  
Junmyeon expected Yifan to deflect the knife,  more so the act only backed up the fact that he is indeed Li Jiaheng.    
  
And he forces himself to believe that the last six years with Yifan is nothing but a lie. Easier said than done.   
  
"You're going to poison yourself." Baekhyun remarks as he plucks the bottle of Bourbon from Junmyeon's hands. 

  
"Oh yeah." Junmyeon hears himself snicker drunkenly. "I've just found out that the man I'm married to will be possibly trying to kill me in the next twenty-four hours as I'd be trying to kill him myself. Perfect right? Should I get Yifan an S&W for our anniversary? What do you think Baekhyun?"   
  
"Junmyeon you're done with him." Baekhyun says as he sits down beside Junmyeon. The latter folds his legs against his chest and tries his very hardest not to cry. "You have to sever this attachment because he's an assignment and he'll kill you Junmyeon. He'll want to kill you so you better get yourself together and kill him first." 

Junmyeon meets Baekhyun’s gaze and nods ever so calmly. He’s backed into a wall without an escape and he could only pray that Yifan puts up a good fight. In the end, Junmyeon had an inkling that he’s not going to be able to do it.

The taste of betrayal is acrid and it seeps into every corner of Junmyeon’s bones. That night he succumbed into a fitful sleep and dreams of white sheets and a naked skin pressed upon his. The Danube is beautiful. Junmyeon shifts, and the dream changes into Junmyeon pressing a gun upon Yifan’s forehead.

He snaps awake and sleep never comes.

//

The next evening, Junmyeon finds himself staring at his face reflected against the curved edge of a wine glass, full to the brim. He keeps his mind blank as he expects his husband anytime soon, it’s their sixth wedding anniversary after all. Junmyeon chuckles humorlessly.  

Yifan steps into the restaurant amidst sounds of Spanish guitar and couples mindlessly slow dancing in the middle of the restaurant. Junmyeon doesn’t turn his head so when Yifan’s palms caress down the exposed line of his neck, he shivers and his hand automatically clenches around the hilt of the dinner knife laid on the covered table.

“You’re really that anxious to kill me.” Yifan leans forward and whispers in his ear, Junmyeon elbows him and Yifan rewards him with a pained grunt before he reclines and rounds the table. Junmyeon stares at him, his hand still clutched tightly around the dinner knife.

Yifan is wearing a red coat under a black dress shirt and his hair brushed away from his handsome face. He looks pretty damn perfect and Junmyeon would have bent over for him if they weren’t enemies and each other’s most probable killer.

Junmyeon scoffs, “Just like how anxious you are to kill me.”

His husband picks up the neglected wine glass and without a second thought brings the rim to his lips, taking a small sip without removing his gaze from Junmyeon’s face. “You’re not wearing glasses.”

“I don’t need them.” Is the simple answer. Yifan chuckles and replaces the wine glass on the table.

When he leans over, he tips Junmyeon’s face up and sneers, “Do I need to know anything new, honey? Because you honestly keep surprising me with your lies.”

Junmyeon pulls away. “So do you,  _honey._  You’re not exactly the picture of complete honesty either.”

“We’ll see,” Yifan says before he’s harshly pulling Junmyeon up from his chair. Junmyeon lets himself be dragged towards the middle of the free space, the music now taking an upbeat turn and a faster pace, like a Pasodoble. Yifan’s hold is in not in any way gentle, his fingers curled around Junmyeon’s arm like steel clamps as he forces Junmyeon into position.

“So after all these years, you pretended to be half blind,” They’re dancing now, but to Junmyeon it is more of Yifan dragging and shoving him around the floor. Junmyeon lets him be but his palms splay on Yifan’s back, inching down and searching for concealed weaponry. Yifan doesn’t let him wander longer though as he guides Junmyeon and practically bodily slams him against a wall, the light fixture rattling above him. Junmyeon hisses as he feels acute pain crushing both his hands. “All for a cover, huh.”

Yifan’s hand travel under Junmyeon’s coat, unsheathing his Eickhorn switchblade from its holster around his waist. Junmyeon ignores the way Yifan stabs the knife an inch above his scalp.

“Why,” Junmyeon taunts as he shoves the taller man, “Are you mad?”

“Not as much as the fact that you tried to kill me last night.”

Junmyeon smirks, “Like you wouldn’t do the same to me once given the chance. I made it easier for the both of us  _Jiaheng_. At least we can stop this stupid charade once and for all and finally get on with our lives.”

Yifan pins him with a stare and drags him back to the middle of the floor, pressing their chests together. Junmyeon shivers at the contact. “Yes. I’m a hired gun but I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Yifan hisses in Junmyeon’s ear. “I didn’t know you were Suho until Abellan’s assassination. We had the same fucking target.”

 Junmyeon narrows his eyes. “ _You don’t know what I’m talking about?_ You’re a fucking liar Yifan.”

 “Look who’s talking. We both lied but I didn’t try and kill you the first time I found out.” Junmyeon is not aware of all the eyes trained on the two of them. Yifan is testing his patience and it's working, Junmyeon’s breaths coming in harsh pants as Yifan continues to shove him around the dance floor in the guise of well-mannered dancing.

“You know,” Junmyeon seethes, stomping down on his husband’s foot. “That’s why we didn’t work, more than our lies it’s the fact that we couldn’t trust each other. We were a mistake.”

Yifan stares back at him as if what Junmyeon had said caused him pain. But as fast as the emotion appears it’s gone in the same manner.

“No, our marriage didn’t work because you treated it like a job. Six long years Junmyeon and that’s all I were to you, an assignment. I was a job you needed to finish the moment you struck the chance. And mighty damn job you did.”

Yifan is wrong. Junmyeon until the moment he flipped that folder to reveal the face of his husband, didn’t treat their marriage like what Yifan had been implying. It wasn’t a cover. He took Wu Junmyeon as his reality until the moment his husband became his next mark. Could you blame him? Six long years and this is their tragic conclusion. No matter the angle Junmyeon assesses it, they both lied.

“Let me ask you Junmyeon, what part of it was real?”

 _Everything had been real_. Junmyeon wants to say but Yifan has officially lost his privilege to know the truth.

They stand unmoving. 

“Did you even love me?”

_Yes, yes I did._

Junmyeon leans in and presses his lips against the side of Yifan’s mouth. “Happy anniversary.” He murmurs, lips brushing against Yifan’s. “See you at home. Let’s finish this lie once and for all.”

And that was it, Junmyeon had a few hours left to kill his husband, ten to be exact. Junmyeon turns and leaves the restaurant.

//

Yifan doesn’t stop his husband when he turns his back. He knew they’d be seeing each other soon enough. They’d be finishing each other soon enough.

Yifan couldn’t stop the ironically pained chuckle that had erupted from within him. He couldn’t breathe and he thinks it would be good to unleash some of his pent up rage inside the damn restaurant, take the edge of hysteria clouding his focus until he couldn’t remember any more until his mind is devoid of this…nightmare.

Because would you look at this, after six long years they were finally going to  _literally_  kill each other.

 Yifan occupies the seat previously vacated by Junmyeon and finishes the half empty wine bottle calmly sitting on the table.

He realizes he’s not inebriated enough for what’s about to happen but that is okay. He needs sobriety if he is to provide Junmyeon the best entertainment of his life before he lets his husband shoot him. It is their anniversary after all, what an appropriate gift.

 

Yifan hated the fact that he is still in love with Junmyeon, after everything that’s been said and done,  _he’s still fucking in love with a husband who’s tried to and will kill him._  Jongdae had been right, it was all bullshit and Yifan will pay with his life for a few years’ worth of gratification gone stale.

He just sits there for more than half an hour. When the clock ticks nine he leaves the restaurant and drives home. His MP5 fully loaded, an RP9 tucked under his coat, and his heart calms as it beats on amidst a raging metaphorical storm.

He parks in front of their home and doesn’t even kill the engine when he leaves the car. He does remember to put on his slim, white gold wedding band, a habit so deeply ingrained in him he does it unconsciously. 

Yifan enters the house through the back door, stepping into the noticeably devoid kitchen. It’s eerily quiet but he knows Junmyeon is somewhere around. His gaze flits here and there assessing the surroundings and he sees Junmyeon in the foyer, across the wide space that connects the kitchen to the sitting room.

“Honey,” Yifan calls in mockery, “I’m here, miss me?”

A hail of bullets answer. Yifan dives behind the granite kitchen counter as the shells from Junmyeon’s gun splinter all the condiment bottles haphazardly placed on top of it. Sounds of broken glass and sloshing liquids occupy his hearing until he manages to compose himself, breathing through his mouth in harsh pants. He raises his own gun and approximates Junmyeon’s location.

 His husband is armed with a fucking AK47 and he’s stuck here wielding a fucking pistol. Yifan couldn’t believe himself.

He crouches silently and sees Junmyeon pacing through the living room. Yifan suddenly bolts up and fires with the MP5 this time, he makes sure his bullets are in Junmyeon’s general trajectory but doesn’t actually hit him, Yifan’s aim is to entertain after all and Junmyeon seems to be enjoying the show based on his manic sounding laughter.

Yifan fires another round and the bullets hit Junmyeon’s glass bookshelf, situated in the living room and it shatters into innumerable pieces.

“Fuck you, I loved those books!” Junmyeon shouts as he follows Yifan into the kitchen with a spray of bullets. Yifan grabs one door of their double door refrigerator and uses it to shield himself from Junmyeon who is shooting at him from across the hall.  He grabs the utility drawer and hurls the first thing he touches –it’s a meat cleaver –at his seething husband. There’s a groan and for a crippling moment, there’s fear.

 _He couldn’t have._  

Yifan should have known better because when he takes a peek to check if his husband is alright, Junmyeon practically empties the remaining of his AK47 at Yifan’s general direction.

“Your aim is as terrible as your cooking, sweetheart.” Yifan taunts when he manages to run out of the kitchen amidst the rain of bullets indented by shattered porcelain and glass. He runs to the living room, hiding behind the divider which holds his small collection of fine China. Junmyeon doesn’t follow him yet, Yifan assumes the other must have been reloading his AK47.

A sick sort of thrill passes through him, and he admits Junmyeon is probably one of his better rivals.

“Aren’t we getting cocky now, huh?” Junmyeon yells and shoots at him, with an M4 this time –Yifan almost groans – and the divider crumbles along with Yifan’s collection. And now he’s mad. He empties the rest of the clip at Junmyeon who ducks down. Through the blasted divider, the spray of bullets from Yifan’s MP5 shatters and tears their huge wedding portrait which had been emblazoned on the wall beside Junmyeon’s equally shattered glass bookshelf.

Yifan looks horrified and Junmyeon appropriately stunned as he watches the frame of the portrait crumble into heaps. When Junmyeon fully processes what just happened, he drops his gun and lunges at Yifan in mad fury. Yifan, whose expression is an egregious display at having perforated their wedding portrait, has the air knocked out of his lungs when Junmyeon drives a knee to his stomach. They fall down.

“I. Loved. That. Fucking. Portrait.” Junmyeon indents each word with a blow to Yifan’s face and damn, he punches hard with malicious intent. Yifan, who is derailed from his momentary shock, uses all his weight to reverse their positions. He knocks his skull against Junmyeon’s causing the latter to get winded. As Junmyeon gathers himself, Yifan immediately scrambles to his feet but Junmyeon kicks his knees and he falls down again, this time his head hits the rounded edge of the coffee table. The pain is immediate as it travels down the back of his head to the end of his spine. Yifan groans in pain. Junmyeon easily picks him up and bodily slams him onto their floor to ceiling glass window. Yifan is sure that the thick glass cracked against his weight. When Junmyeon moves to shove him against it for the second time, Yifan grabs Junmyeon’s hair, forcefully peeling Junmyeon away from his body and drives a couple of punches to his ribs. Yifan shoves him down and wedges his knee to Junmyeon’s groin.

Junmyeon wheezes, “Fuck that’s unfair.”

Yifan only chuckles, “Not as unfair as cracking my head against the window hon.” And for that, Yifan receives a hardbound book (one from Junmyeon’s collection that had fallen to the floor after he’d busted Junmyeon’s glass bookshelf) to his face. His lower lip splits and bleeds and he clutches at his face in pain.

“Look at you so pretty with all the blood on your face,” Junmyeon says. Yifan punches him on his left cheek. They roll around, wrestling and exchanging white knuckled punches until Junmyeon grabs the handle of his neglected M4, Yifan is quick to react and pulls the RP9 under his banged up coat. They both spring to their feet, the barrel of the M4 pressed against Yifan’s neck and the mouth of his RP9 pointed on Junmyeon’s forehead.

Yifan is not sure if it's the barrel of Junmyeon's M4 that's making his heart claw its way out of his ribcage or the fact the fact that Junmyeon is looking so  _beautiful._

 No one moves, they're just standing there pointing a gun at each other and panting between deep inhales of oxygen. The back of Yifan's head throbs and there's pain splicing itself down his arm. The feeling doesn't really bother him.   
  
And then there's Junmyeon. His hair is mussed up and his clothing suggested something akin to walking through a tornado. Discoloration is already blooming on Junmyeon's left cheek and there's a steady leak of blood seeping through his mangled white button down.   
  
Yifan hasn't looked this thoughtfully and thoroughly at Junmyeon in months. He's always known that Junmyeon is exceptionally beautiful, but he admits it got stale throughout the years. Belatedly, Yifan realizes that Junmyeon's physical appearance hasn't dwindled as his years increased. If ever Junmyeon might have become even more beautiful. It's an odd realization considering that they both had a blast trying to have a go at each other’s heads just a few seconds ago. It was over. Yifan smiles in resignation, the RP9 in his grasp is already getting heavier as the clock ticks and he is tired of playing this game.   
  
"Take it, shoot me." The remark is as offhanded as the way he'd tossed the gun onto the floor. Junmyeon's face scrunches as he eyes the RP9 sail across the room. "No!"   
  
Junmyeon, Yifan notes, oddly sounded strangled. The M4 is still as cold as it digs unto the skin of his neck but Yifan lets it be and doesn't move to swat it away.    
  
"We both know, I can't do it. I can't kill you." Yifan closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. The mere action, simple as breathing, caused his whole body to protest in pain as he continues to say the words he'd long left unsaid. "For what it's worth, the last six years wasn't the same for me as it was for you.It was real. For me, it had always been real."   
  
Yifan looks at Junmyeon as if it is his last and he takes in every dip and curve, every line and shadow and commits it to memory. The last image of his husband he sees is of a badly bruised Junmyeon, with a busted lip and cuts along the length of his arm. There's an effervescent flush on his usually pale cheeks.

And Junmyeon has never been this beautiful. He waits for the bullet, it doesn’t come.   
  
  
  
Junmyeon notes that his fingers are shaking so badly. The thought of  Yifan's neck had seemed very enticing against the metallic barrel of his M4 when he imagines it, a very vivid contrast against how he feels when he's actually standing right in front of his husband, ready to kill him.   
  
But Junmyeon could not do it. He screws his eyes shut and silently accounts the lancing pain slicing through a few choice parts of his body. He's high strung and panting. When Yifan drops his RP9, Junmyeon shouts. He sounds strangled, voice passing through his lips like a choked whisper. Yifan doesn't listen to him but continues to look at Junmyeon.   
  
And Junmyeon drops the M4.   
  
He's not sure who moved first but he remembers grabbing his husband by his shirt's collar. Junmyeon pushes and maneuvers both their bodies to turn, Yifan's svelte body sandwiched between the splintered glass wall and Junmyeon's frame.  
  
And then Junmyeon shoves his lips against Yifan's. The action is bruising and he could taste blood as he swipes his tongue against Yifan's bruised lower lip. The other man hissed, his palm flies up and settles upon the back of Junmyeon's head to grab at his red hair. They part forcefully and Junmyeon utters a very hateful. "Fuck you." Before Yifan reconnects their mouths. The kiss is messy and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues rubbing against each other in the filthiest of ways. Junmyeon somehow likes it.   
  
Yifan has had enough when his mouth wanders down Junmyeon's neck, biting at the flushed skin. Junmyeon pants, his fingers bearing down on Yifan's mangled shirt. He rips it open before he splays his palms flat upon the heated flesh of Yifan's sculpted back, nails digging hard into Yifan’s skin. The sensation rips an involuntary shudder from Junmyeon and he moans quietly.  
  
"You're going to fucking wish you shot me." Yifan enunciates before he shoves Junmyeon to the sitting room couch with its upholstery perforated with bullet holes. Junmyeon is bent over the arm of the couch, going out of his mind, mad with lust and fury.   
  
Yifan is then deftly unbuckling his belt buckle with finesse, his heated palm unnecessarily rubbing against Junmyeon's erection in his haste to get rid of the offending cloth. The redhead seethes and grinds back on Yifan's crotch, eliciting a short hiss and a startled groan from the taller man. "Fuck you Junmyeon."   
  
He finally manages to get rid of Junmyeon's pants which he lets pool around Junmyeon's legs. He takes Junmyeon's hard cock and gives it a good tug. Junmyeon shivers and digs his teeth onto his lower lip to stop himself from eliciting any sound that would further inflate his husband's big head. When the first two fingers, lubricated with spit, breaches his entrance Junmyeon scrambles for purchase, holding on to the tassels of cloth from the torn couch.   
  
The pain is excruciating but welcomed and the bruising kisses Yifan leaves on the side of his neck and his shoulder blade is a needed distraction as Yifan stretches him open. Deemed enough and without warning, Yifan snaps his hips forward and bottoms out. Junmyeon didn’t even notice the taller undoing his fly.

With a shallow thrust, Junmyeon eyes roll backward in a crude combination of pain and pleasure. "You fucking bastard, I'm going to kill you."   
  
Behind him, Yifan stutters and chuckles, having enough decency to let Junmyeon adjust before he aims for another hard thrust, grazing Junmyeon's prostate. Junmyeon whimpers, unable to stop the moan from the back of his throat. "Fuck,  Yifan — please." The other man picks up speed, the sound of their skin slapping against each other is obscene as it resounds in the wrecked living room.   
  
Junmyeon is so, so close but then Yifan is pulling out and Junmyeon almost snarls at him.   
  
"Not yet." Yifan says as he pulls Junmyeon and tips him against his hard chest. Junmyeon’s slacks meet the floor as he wraps his legs around Yifan's torso and locks his ankles together. Yifan easily hefts him up, reconnecting their mouths in a kiss full of emotion –pent up rage and diluted hatred. They amble to the bedroom, crashing against splintered glass and shattered China. They don't make it to the bed. Yifan falls over with Junmyeon on top, straddling him. Junmyeon is still painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip of his cock.   
  
Junmyeon wants to punch his husband's perfect face for what he'd just done but stashes the thought for later.  
  
Coincidentally, a bottle of unused lube calmly sits on the side table. Junmyeon grabs the bottle and dribbles its contents down Yifan's erection before he impales himself on his husband's cock. Yifan groans and Junmyeon digs his nails on the other man's chest. The new angle sends overwhelming sparks of pleasure down Junmyeon's spine.   
  
Yifan meets his downward thrusts and, ”shit, shit, shit." his cock grazes Junmyeon's spot, over and over. Yifan seemed to notice that Junmyeon can't hold himself up any longer so he flips their positions and drives into Junmyeon hard and fast, chasing for sweet, sweet release. Junmyeon comes untouched with a silent scream. His climax washing over his whole body stronger than he'd felt in years. He shudders, oversensitivity making him unconsciously clench around Yifan who comes inside him with a muffled groan. 

Yifan slumps forward, his weight falling against Junmyeon's slightly shuddering body. The sounds of their harsh panting fill the room which is completely bereft of light save for the elongated pane of fluorescent cutting through half shut draperies. Yifan's mind is scattering as he tries to process the rather exciting events of their sixth wedding anniversary. So far, he's not dead. Yet. His whole body is screaming in agony and the back of his head throbs.

He holds Junmyeon just a little tighter, just to make whatever happened between them last longer. Yifan expects rejection but then and to his surprise, his husband returns the embrace just as strongly. Junmyeon clings to him as if he wanted to press their bodies together. Yifan doesn't know what to say so he leans forward and captures Junmyeon's lips in a genial kiss as he completely pulls out. Junmyeon whimpers and Yifan kisses him again, almost tenderly. Their mouths slotting, tongues softly curling against each other with comforting familiarity. He doesn’t know how long they stayed on that position, lying on the floor and languidly kissing each other.

It hits Yifan once again.

The searing pain is forgotten as he gently cradles Junmyeon's face into his hands. He forgets everything else as he basks upon the feeling. His skin is on fire as every nerve ending sparks and ignites his whole being. His heart is calm, it’s a consternation.

Yifan realizes, that he is still in love with Junmyeon and even the fact that the man has tried to kill him twice and will probably attempt for a few more in the future, Yifan is still and will always be in love with Junmyeon.

It doesn't matter as right now. All their lies are finally out in the open, their darkest secret revealed and that they've been each other's faceless enemies, it doesn't matter. Yifan lives in the moment, in this post-sex alternative reality where everything is sane and completely normal. Where Junmyeon loves Yifan as much as he loves Junmyeon.

"Happy anniversary."

Junmyeon smiles against his neck, "Happy anniversary."

//

Junmyeon comes around later, on the bed —specifically their bed. He's partially covered and his whole body is in pain. Yifan isn't to be found. Junmyeon furrows his eyebrows and hisses when he moves up to make himself decent. He belatedly notices that some of his injuries are covered in salve and his biceps bandaged. It must have been his husband's work. Junmyeon groans as he gingerly moves his arms to test their functionality, thankfully nothing is incredibly broken out of place that a few pain tablets can't amend.

He stands up and dresses with a pair of boxers and one of Yifan's sweater he finds lying around. He makes his way outside and cringes at the mess. Their living room is completely destroyed, the walls are perforated with bullet holes and the floor is covered in splintered glass and wood.  Junmyeon carefully crosses the threshold and into the kitchen where he finds Yifan sitting before the granite counter. His head is bandaged.

Junmyeon smiles to himself as he reaches over to caress his husband's shoulder. "Hi."

Yifan circles his fingers around Junmyeon's wrist and smiles. He lets Junmyeon sit beside him and offers a cup of coffee and some toast, both served on partially destroyed porcelain. Junmyeon chuckles.

Junmyeon knows their relationship still dangles in a rather precarious vantage. They might have decided to not kill each other but sifting through years’ worth of lies and half-truths isn't exactly a walk in the park. But it's alright because Junmyeon strongly believes that they'd walk out of this, maybe not unscathed but whole either way. After all, his inability to carry out his assignment is a breach of protocol, a testament to his professionalism and Junmyeon knows what consequences he shall face for refusing to take down a mark.

Junmyeon could not find it in himself to care, he still loves his husband no matter how fucked up their situation has become and he will never kill him, nothing can really change that.

Yifan asks about his well-being over the pot of black coffee they share. Junmyeon is secretly relieved that he'd splintered their horrendous dining table to uselessness. "I'm fine, I've had worse," Junmyeon says. ”You doing good, how's your head?"

Yifan answers through a mouthful of buttered toast. "I feel like my skull's cracked. But I've been to hell and back. This is nothing."

Junmyeon chuckles and sips at his black coffee. They’re momentarily quiet.

“Tell me.” Yifan begins to say, “When we met, were you after a mark?”

Junmyeon nods. “I was after a drug lord, Adelino Vega. Were you?”

Yifan smiles as he takes another sip from his chipped mug. “He was my target and I watched him plummet down twenty-five floors after getting hit on the head. The clients didn’t want him dead.”

The bitter black coffee is exquisite as it passes through Junmyeon's throat. “Should I apologize? I honestly had no idea but then again, I would’ve taken the shot even if I had known someone else was after him.”

Yifan chuckles. "You got me with that one, really got my ass served. How about in 2008, in Buenos Aires?”

 “I honestly don’t remember the name but the client owned a damn Casino.”

“Yeah we still got the same target, the name was Francis Lee and you nicked him long before I got a visual.”

“What can I say?” Junmyeon laughs. “I’m pretty good at this shit. How about 2006, in Shanghai. My mark was Cheng Jincai. The body was burned beyond recognition when I got to him. Was that your doing?"

"The burning part was Luhan's idea, but generally it was me."

Junmyeon shakes his head in resigned amusement. He couldn’t believe they are actually talking about marks and generally acting like men with bruised egos.

"My boss had been so livid. It was at that point when he'd started obsessing about Li Jiaheng's existence, he wanted you gone. He called you a pest."

"It takes more than that to kill me.” Yifan is generally unperturbed as he tips down the remnants of his coffee. “So speaking of marks, I was really one huh? What gave me away?”

 Junmyeon does not have enough courage to answer. "Didn't you ID me that night?" he asks instead.

Yifan shakes his head. "I saw you, but I didn't believe it was you. And even if I did get you on an assignment profile, I wouldn't have done it."

"This says so much about our marriage." Junmyeon thumbs at the cracked edge of the granite countertop as he spoke. "I …did not trust you. The moment I saw your face on the target profile…something just snapped. I had been so furious and then I thought that you'd been a mole for the last seven years, that you were just waiting for the right time to kill me. You know the job Fan, it makes you lose it."

Yifan directs him a small, melancholic smile. "We're really messed up”

Junmyeon knows sorry will never cut it. A simple  _sorry_  is such a puny, temporary covering for a wound that’s been cut too deep and bleeding. Sorry isn’t enough but Junmyeon says it anyway. "I'm sorry Yifan." Because really, what else is there to say?

His husband does not answer. Junmyeon feels…guilty because he is clearly standing on the wrong side of this whole debacle. His weakness and their issues getting through his rational thinking and destroying their already damaged relationship. It only took Yifan's face on a target's profile, and even after years of marriage, Junmyeon hadn't given Yifan the benefit of the doubt. To kill had been his automatic reaction.

Junmyeon didn't deserve him. 

But Yifan trusted him and Yifan had loved him enough not to kill him. And maybe Junmyeon had been the same.

"Did you ever have trouble sleeping after?"

Junmyeon shakes his head. "I got used to it."

Yifan doesn't talk after that. They stay silent, mulling over their thoughts until Junmyeon's errant phone, screen cracked beyond recognition, rings and derails Junmyeon out of his thoughts. He doesn't glance at the caller I.D when he answers.

 _"Junmyeon they know."_  Baekhyun sounds harried.  _"They know you're married to Li Jiaheng."_

Junmyeon grips the edge of the countertop as he answers, bolting up from his seat. "What?"

_"The man who got killed wasn't Abellan. That whole assignment was a big collaboration project between HQ and Prime. They put the two of you together on a staged assignment, hoping one would kill—"_

Baekhyun doesn't get to finish the statement as an explosion collapses half of Junmyeon and Yifan's home. They're thrown back by sheer force, grenade shrapnel flying out in every direction. Junmyeon is quick to react, grabbing Yifan’s RP9 lying undisturbed on the floor from where Yifan had thrown it the night before. Yifan grabs his wrist, hauling him out the shattered floor to ceiling windows as another explosion wracks the whole place and causes the house –roof and all –to collapse. Junmyeon vaguely wondered if their pursuers just detonated a damned C4 on their home.

 Junmyeon's body erupts in pain, exacerbating his injuries to another degree. A portion of the roof had collapsed on them, knocking them off their feet. For a moment, Junmyeon couldn't breathe, but Yifan is then shoving the debris that had fallen over them, panting as he did. Junmyeon reaches out and Yifan easily grabs him up. Winded, Junmyeon wheezes and almost tips over.

He doesn't hear when Yifan kicks an array of bricks, wood, and glass out of their way. The house is completely destroyed, shattered to smithereens, except some parts of the wall that hadn't been pulverized. The door to their room is hanging off its hinges.

Junmyeon narrows his eyes. "This is definitely HQ's doing. What the fuck, after eleven years this is the treatment I get?"

"We need to get outta here." Yifan brandishes a shrapnel in front of his husband. "See this, it's Prime. This isn't just your agency. They're both after us."

Junmyeon eyes the remnants of their wrecked home and tries not to let the acrid taste of hatred overwhelm him. Hatred didn't do him any favors, it only makes him lose his composure and losing it would be a massive headache for what Junmyeon currently plans on doing.   
  
Just as suddenly, a chopper reveals itself upon the renewed horizon, a horrendous mobile monolith against the backdrop of warm orange hues signaling the start of another day.  Junmyeon is under the impression that the chopper is there to rescue them and abate the mess surrounding their immediate environment, it isn't.  Yifan grabs his wrist and sprints, seconds after the chopper swathes them with a rain of bullets coming from a machine gun on board.   
  
Junmyeon bites back a curse as they round the premises of their wrecked house and jumps over the hedge into a neighbor's yard. The family must have been out for no one is yet to notice the prolific sounds of firing ammunition. They run into the house's garage with its gate oddly left unlocked. Yifan has to elbow the window of the only vehicle available —a clearly ancient minivan —open. Yifan reaches behind the steering wheel, muttering under his breath as he mechanically and expertly hotwires the vehicle into ignition. Surprisingly, the engine roars to life and they're driving out of their neighbor's garage with their neighbor's ancient Toyota minivan. The chopper soon spots them and renews its attempt to obliterate them with bullets.   
  
"Has our agencies completely lost their minds?" Yifan bellows as he lets the minivan swerve in crisscross out of their subdivision. "We're in a residential area for fuck's sake!"   
  
Junmyeon doesn't answer because he's busy scrambling towards the backseat of the van narrowly missing the bullets that pierce through the car's roof. It was a good thing that Junmyeon has had half a mind to grab Yifan's errant RP9 before their house collapsed. "Ease out into the main road!" He shouts. "They won't follow us with that chopper on the highway."   
  
And so Yifan did. Small mercies the chopper indeed flies out of sight but Yifan immediately notices that they're being tailed by three black sedans, and yes they were being fired at and Yifan is so tired of this shit. It's barely fucking six in the damn morning!

 One of the sedans comes awfully close as Yifan joins Seoul's early morning traffic. Through the sedan's sunroof, a man in a uniform dark suit obsequiously fires at them with Prime's standard ammunition, an AK47. Yifan chuckles darkly, hands steady on the wheel as Junmyeon slides open the side door of the van, leans his body out and starts firing with his famed deadly accuracy one hand gripping Yifan's RP9 the other anchored on one of the seats. Junmyeon shoots the man firing at them through the sunroof and when he slumps forward, dead, Junmyeon targets one of the sedan's front wheels. The tire bursts and the vehicle careen out of control and gets swept over by an oncoming ten wheeler. The crushed sedan collides with a few other vehicles on the highway and Yifan may or may not have cringed at the vehicular pile up they have caused. He abhorred getting people killed unnecessarily and he especially loathed instigating traffic.   
  
Yifan is slightly grateful though because as of the moment, no police car is adding into their current stack of predicaments.   
  
"Why the hell is your agency up our fucking asses?!" Junmyeon shouts as he reverts to his earlier position, reaching to the back of the minivan to throw the rear door open. The second is awfully close to the van’s rear. This time no one is stupidly poking his body out of the sunroof. It makes it harder to aim since their current assailant has wisely chosen to stick his torso out of the car's window instead. Junmyeon has taken to throwing out everything he touches through the rear door of the van. Golf clubs, children's toys, skiing and snowboarding equipment go flying out. Yifan smirks as the golf club's head smacks their current shooter in the face. Even with fairly harmless objects, Junmyeon's aim is precise.   
  
"They probably ID'd you Myeon." Yifan answers the earlier question. His driving is getting more erratic as the second sedan finally closes in and slams the van through the driver's side. The van swerves and collides with another vehicle. Yifan is vaguely aware when Junmyeon resumes his position in the passenger seat. He aims the RP9 through the driver's window and for a horrifying second, Yifan thought Junmyeon is going to shoot him. Junmyeon doesn't shoot him though (thankfully), but he does fire and successfully ends the second sedan's driver who slumps on the wheel and steps rather harshly on the gas.  
  
A vehement. "Shit." Slips out of Junmyeon's lips when the last sedan comes near, shooting at their van with aims that are uncontrolled. "I'm out of ammo."  
  
Straight ahead, Yifan sees the Yanghwa Bridge and a sick sort of idea passes through him. Survival is feasible in comparison to fighting off the last sedan which passengers are earnestly trying to pin down their stolen van with a hail of bullets. When the van's side mirror gets shattered by an errant bullet, Yifan's resolve hardens. He stares at Junmyeon who is harried looking, hair a scarlet catastrophe and blood leaking through his bandaged biceps. Yifan has momentarily forgotten that they were both injured and only pure adrenaline is propelling them into action. Yifan couldn't even feel the dull throb of his head.

 "Junmyeon do you trust me now?" Yifan asks as sincerely as he could muster while he snaps his seatbelt into place. “I have an idea, an admittedly crazy idea but we’ll successfully get these bastards off our backs, what do you say?”

Junmyeon's gaze doesn't waver as he nods, seeming as he'd read Yifan's mind when he also hurriedly affixes the safety strap across his chest. “I don’t give a fuck Yifan, just do something.”

That had been the only consent Yifan needed before he swiftly turns the wheel, stepping on the gas. The van crashes through the bridge's railing and then it is falling with its headlights facing the relatively calm surface of the Han river. Yifan and Junmyeon scream as the car plunges into the water. The impact is pretty intense as Yifan rather feels like he'd fallen upon concrete instead of something obviously not solid. The car submerges immediately, water flooding the interior through the open rear door. They both successfully unlatch the safety belts and swim out of the steadily sinking car.  
  
When they break the surface Yifan actually guffaws. Their pursuers have momentarily ceased their violent pursuit and currently no black sedan and black suited men are pawing the general vicinity. Some civilians have stopped their cars by the bridge, however, looking through the railing with concerned flails of the arm. In the distance, sirens blare.  
  
They swim to the nearest grassy bank, Junmyeon heaving as he transfers his body onto dry land. He pants, trying to catch his breath.  
  
"First day of our sixth year of marriage and our house is destroyed, we've stolen a vehicle, caused a minor pile up, almost got ourselves killed and drowned. What an amazing —"   
  
Yifan doesn’t let him finish the statement as heaves his body up, crawls between Junmyeon’s slightly parted legs and finally slots his lips against Junmyeon’s wet cold mouth. Junmyeon smiles against his lips, throwing his arms around Yifan’s neck to pull him closer.

  
"I love you." Yifan breathes when they part, grinning down at Junmyeon like a crazed man who'd just won the lottery. "Our marriage has been practically insane but fuck, I still love you so goddamn much Junmyeon. And I don't give a shit even if our agencies want us dead. I need you and they can all go to hell."   
  
Junmyeon answers by pulling him down again and pressing their lips together. Yifan thinks he can live with that.

It doesn’t matter that their agencies want them dead. It doesn’t matter that as of the moment the both of them are currently on top of the kill list of Asia’s deadliest organizations. It doesn’t matter.

 “Do you wanna go to Bali?” Yifan asks, “I haven’t given you my anniversary gift after all.”

“That would be good.”

Maybe they’d deal with their agencies later but right now Yifan does nothing but savor the fact that he is alive, that they’re alive. They aren’t entirely fixed but it’s alright. They’ll reach that part.

For now, Yifan lives in the moment.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! sorry for the vague ass ending. there will prolly be an epilogue, honestly, who knows? lol  
> throw bricks at me : twitter @snowmyun

**Author's Note:**

> next part would prolly be up before Junmyeon's bday? lol idk. 
> 
> @snowmyun on twitter -- throw bricks at me.


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